The scene: our living room on a Sunday afternoon. I'm dozing lightly in my chair, a requisite fire in the fireplace and yawning cat at my feet; a gardening magazine open in my lap. My husband tiptoes by and, when I begin to snore (just a tad, mind you) he lingers for a moment - examining what I am...er, was reading.
Perhaps if he knows what I was perusing before I started purring, he will then know what gardening chore he'll be hearing about this season of long winter naps - when I do all of my (and his) garden planning courtesy of my dreams.
Was I looking at greenhouses again? Am I still plotting that new bed in back? Will I want some grow lights to start seeds under this year?
He covers me with a quilt, stokes the fire and pets the cat. He sighs and shuffles off - his shoulders heavy with the thoughts of a new water feature.
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